1980 View of Software

Software is a new enough kind of thing in the world that humans are still figuring out how to deal with it. Though it can be bought and sold, you can't see, hear, touch, taste, smell, eat, or burn it. On an unlovely flat artifact called a disk may be hidden the concentrated intelligence of thousands of hours of design, for which you are expected to pay hundreds of dollars, and which you can reproduce on your own computer with perfect fidelity in less than a minute, free. Personal computers have an inherent outlaw element. This makes them enjoyable and creative and morally interesting.

All software does is manage symbols. Unlike letters and numbers on paper, the symbols reside in a marvelously fluid zero gravity no place, where they dance with impeccable precision to your tune. Software articulates your intentions faithfully, but it eludes understanding. We treat the stuff (it isn't stuff) as if programs were just like the how-to books our Whole Earth Catalogs have been dealing in for years. They provide technique. They can transform lives. They sell cheap or dear. Some are better than others. This entire book is about finding the better ones.